


Demon Scars

by LordGrimwing



Series: No Home Stories [6]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Demon!Inferno, Eventual Nomad AU, Human!Red Alert, Wounds, wounds that won't heal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9974951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordGrimwing/pseuds/LordGrimwing
Summary: Dhorati is in charge of the fortress while Lord Yuvan's away. A demon is captured and Dhorati must decide what to do with him.The wounds left by one demon tend to stay for a long time.I know its a bad summery.Red Alert is Dhorati





	1. The Fortress's Prisoner

Many hundreds of miles south of the city of Puri, stood the ancient fortress of Agni. Walls scarred from years standing against the elements and onslaughts of the enemies without. Its adhissa, Lord Yuvan, had long ago departed on a quest with all his rathabandha, leaving the great fortress under the stewardship of Dhorati. The vitaraka sat on the northward wall, pigskin shod feet tapping against the rough hune stones under him, loose garments shifting in the breeze, and wooden amulet heavy against his chest.

Dhorati did this every evening, as the sun was setting to his left, waiting and watching for his adhissa to return. Lord Yuvan had warned him that freeing the outerlands from the hold the native monsters had established would take long, many years even. But Dhorati always hoped it wouldn’t be so, that his adhissa would return soon.

Below him, the dry and cracked ground was disturbed only by a rolling tumbleweed.

“Dhor!” The call came from the fortress grounds, almost directly below him.   

The man leaned back, looking over his shoulder. “What?” It wasn’t often any of Lord Yuvan’s other ziksu came look for him. Yuvan may have trusted Dhorati to be his vitaraka and care for Agni in his absence but he hadn’t left much that needed looking after and since the adhissa taken most of the warriors with him the title of Steward meant fairly little. Dhorati often suspected the noble lord had given him it to make up for denying the younger man’s request to join in the mission.

“Dhor, the evening patrol found something that requires your immediate attention!” The servant sounded nervous.  

“I’m on my way!” Dhorati scrambled to his feet, leather shoes silent on the stone ramparts as he ran to the stairwell. Gloved hands pushed open the heavy door with practiced ease. Across the parade grounds he ran, the servant close behind.

“Their waiting in the entry hall.” The ziksu gasped, falling behind.

Dhorati slowed to a brisk walk before he entered the hall, letting the layers of his cloths settle. 

“Jagrav, Ashvath, Achyut!” He called to the three soldiers at the far end of the hall, he could see someone kneeling between them, clad in a well worn cloak. “What have you?!”

The tallest of the three, Achyut, turned to face him. “We found this beast,” he prodded the kneeling stranger with a toe, “lurking just beyond the Laghu Hills.”

“I wasn’t--” The stranger’s protest was cut short as Jagrav slammed the hilt of his spear into the captive’s upper back, knocking him to the floor. In doing so, the hood to his cloak fell to his shoulders.

Dhorati hesitated in his stride, caught of guard.

The stranger looked up from his hunched position. Light from the ever-burning torches glinted off burnished scales. Fiery eyes stared out of a face with a serpent’s nose.

“Pisacha.” Demon. The word tumbled from Dhorati’s lips as his gloved hands rushed to secure the cloth obscuring most of his face and insure the amulet was still tied around his neck.

The stranger’s own face showed a moment of shock before he reached up, pulled his hood back over his scaled head. The action revealed clawed fingers.

Confident his covering was still in place, Dhorati stepped closer, albeit slightly. “You all know the protocol Lord Yuvan set up for these things. The demon should have been disposed of where you found it, if it was unwilling to flee.” He resolutely kept his gaze away from the eyes glowing under the hood.

“We know.” Ashvath reached into his lizard skin satchel. “But he had this.” The dark skinned man held out a scroll.

Dhorati took it, gloved fingers tracing the crest inked over the exterior. The flaming falcon of Agni screeched up at him. Carefully, he began to unroll it, trying not to flinch as the hunched demon shifted. The words inked with in the scroll were in the language of the lords. The few glyphs Dhorati could make out caused him to close the scroll quickly, slipping it inside one of the many folds in his garment.

“Take it to a cell.” He instructed. “I wish to question it further.”

The group made their way through the fortress, Jagrav and Achyut in the front with the demon, Ashvath walking just in front of Dhorati.

When they reached the thick door leading into the prison, Ashvath held Dhorati back for a moment.

In hushed tones he asked, “Do you think this is wise Dhor?”

It was hard to judge the expression the vitaraka wore behind the layers of cloth. “What are you trying to say Ashvath?” 

The dark man laid a strong hand on Dhorati’s shoulder. “What happened to you . . . before . . . we still worry.”

“I’ve noticed.” He angrily brushed away Ashvath’s hand. “Despite what you and Yuvan think, I’m not a durbala. I’m not a weakling who requires protection.” Dark eyes glared from between strips of fabric. Stepping into the room he added “I wish to speak to the demon alone.”

When Jagrav and Achyut left, Dhorati turn toward the demon crouched in the nearest cell. Pulling up his courage, the man stepped closer. “Where did you get this?” He pulled out the scroll.

“How’d you know I’m pisacha and not asura?” The demon asked.

“I will ask the questions demon.” Dhorati shook the scroll. “Where did you get this?”

The scaled demon stretched out, looking to be settling in for a long wait. “I have a name you know.” He stuck a split tongue out, licking at the scales on his lips. “It’s Inferno, you’re welcome to use it.” A hand scratched under his jaw, blunt claws visible in the dim light. “And I’d rather not just call you ‘human.’ So, what’s your name, human?”

Dhorati glowered at the demon. “I will answer some of your questions, demon, after you answer mine.” A part of him wished Lord Yuvan were there. “Where did you get the scroll?”

“Fine, human.” A hiss began to grow in Inferno’s words. “My netri gave it to me. I don’t know what it says, she just told me to bring it to the netr or netri of this place.” A snarl twisted on Inferno’s serpentine face. For a few moments, he hissed unintelligibly. 

Dhorati, worried the pisacha was attempting indrajaala, took a step back, gloved hands reaching for his tattva muktavali, an anti-curse amulet Lord Yuvan gave him. “Stop.” It came out more plea than order. “Stop.”

The sounds halted. “You’re going to answer some of my questions now?” Inferno asked, seemingly uncaring of the other’s reaction to his slip into his native language. “Most humans don’t take the time to learn the difference between pisachas and asura. So why do you?”

Releasing the amulet, Dhorati straightened his stance. “As a servant of the Great Lord Yuvan, it is my duty to know such thing. We will continue our conversation later.” He moved to the door leading out of the fortress’s prison. “Perhaps a night in a cell will make you more agreeable to sharing what you know. We are so interested in your kind after all . . . pisacha.” With that, Dhorati let the door close.

After posting a guard team to watch over the cell, the vitaraka retired to his room. 

The chamber was dim, light from the ever-burning torches hardly enough to see by. But Dhorati knew the space well, easily navigating between the stacks of clay tablets and bound scrolls, all the way to a table spread with multicolored candles and amanusly steeming mortars. Sighing, he sat on the solitary stool, shedding most of his rayment and sliding some candles closer to better illuminate his work.

Slowly, beginning at the ends that hung over his chest, Dhorati unwrapped the cloth from around his head. It to a while, but finally he was left with a neat pile of used fabric and a face exposed to the cool air. He considered himself blessed to not have a mirror, or shared quarters. He had no wish to have what was under the wrap seen, the memory of what the demons did to him were vivid enough as they were, he didn’t need to see the aftermath over and over.

Reaching for one of the mortars, Dhorati gently dipped two fingers into the warm paste. Gingerly, he raised the fingers to the side of his face and slowly rubbed the tingling poultice into the open wound where most of his cheak used to be. He repeated the process, until the many mortars stood empty and the wounds that refused to close on his face, scalp, and neck were well covered by the strong smelling pastes. The healers assured him that eventually, if he kept at this, the wounds would close. Dhorati wasn’t sure he believed that anymore.     

Walking to his bed, he found a cup of friggid sludge waiting on the headboard. Yet another one of the concoctions the healers insisted was helping him. Actually, they claimed it help him heal if he drank it every morning and evening, but the side effects were a little to. . . extreme. After his third psychotic breakdown, Lord Yuvan ordered the healers to reconsider their prescription. They decided Dhorati should take the drink only right before bed, and while this caused unsettling dreams, at least he no longer had major hallucination when awake. 

Gulping down the strangely cold drink, he settled under the blanket, careful to lay his head on the bundle of towels so he didn’t stain the bedding. As his body began to shake from the odd concoction, Dhorati drifted away into a dream filled sleep.  

 

 Inferno lay quietly in the cell, imaging the cold stone under him was actually a sunning rock of the Plains of Atapa. He’d spoken truly when he told the human he didn’t know what the scroll said. His netri, Firestar, told him to deliver it to the human leader in the fortress, she’d even described the man to him, but the human how’d questioned him couldn’t have been he. So, he’d felt justified in omitting a few details, like Firestar instructing him to tell the human leader to expect no more peace from their kind if he continued  forcing the native pisachas from their homes. Perhaps, if the humans’ leader never showed up, Inferno would share the message with the man that had questioned him, but, there was no hurry. Inferno could be patients. Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to sharing anything about his clade with a human who knew the difference between an asura and pisacha, that seemed just a little too dangerous. 

Hissing, the fire demon tried to find a comfortable spot. He didn’t want to stay in this cold fortress, and surely Firestar wouldn’t allow the humans to keep him for long. He had nothing to worry about, provided he could withstand the humans’ ways of questioning him.

Using his cloak as a pillow, Inferno finally fell asleep.

The sun was still unrisen when the inhabitants of Agni set about their day. The handful of soldiers set out on patrols, servants attended to their duties, and Dhorati carefully rewrapped his head, dawned his garments, and headed toward the prison. He had nothing to attended to until that evening, when a caravan was scheduled for a arrival, and figured he might as well insure the demon was still in its cell. He also had a few more questions. Lord Yuvan would want to know more about where the demon came from.

The vitaraka waved the guards away when he entered the prison. 

The demon sat in the cell, cloak discarded, scaly body clad only with a shendyt. His rusty scales weren’t as bright as the day before.

“Are you more willing to answer fully now, demon?” Dhorati asked, stopping a safe distance from the bars.

Inferno looked up, fiery eyes locking with the human’s darker pair. “Depends on the questions.” He’d never spent much time around human, but he still wished his captor would uncover his face so interpreting his reactions would be easier.

“There are no pisacha in these parts. Where did you come from?” The tone was legitimately curious.

Inferno bared his sharp teeth. “I won’t endanger my clade.”

“Why did you come here?” Dhorati edged back.

“To deliver the scroll to your netr.” Inferno tried to calm his voice. Agitating a nervous captor usually brought painful consequences. “My netri, Firestar, instructed me to do so.”

Dhorati stroked at the amulet hanging from his neck, relaxing. “You had no other motive?” He wasn’t going to believe the demon’s words, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“None, other than to enjoy the journey. My kind try to keep to a less complicated level of life.” The answer came quickly. Rehearsed, perhaps.

“I find that hard to believe.” Dhorati scoffed. The thought of any demon wanting to live a simple life was ludicrous.

Inferno sat a little straighter. “Not all pisachas are monsters, human.” He insisted. “Many of us have no wish to engage in the darker practices of indrajaala, unlike the asura.” 

A barke of laughter escaped from Dhorati’s lips. “It would take a great act of indrajaala to make me believe that, demon.” The vitaraka turned for the door. “Asura is merely a more direct word for what all demons are. Evil spirits. The day your kind ceases murdering and torturing humans, is the day we’ve scrubbed the land of you.” The last sentence was delivered with such venom that Inferno scooted back and wondered for a moment if the man were not truly human.

The wooden door closed with finality.

Inferno sat back on his heels, clawed toes tapping at the stone floor. He hadn’t been trying to get a rise out of his captor with the words. But it seemed he had. He’d need to be careful with his words from now on. The scaled demon had little wish to feel the human’s wrath anytime soon. Avoiding the topic of ideology and asura, should the two ever speak again, was a wise idea.

 

Dhorati spent most of the day pacing in the council room. Every so often he’d look through the map boards hung on the wall, half-heartedly making an attempt to figure out any place a clade of fire demons could be hiding. If Yuvan were there, the lord would reprimand him for working himself to such a state of agitation. It was becoming harder and harder not to though. Ever since Dhorati was rescued, ever since the healers began prescribing their sickening mixes, he slipped into anxious states almost unconsciously.     

Groaning, the man slumped against a shelf of books. If Ashvath hadn’t left that morning to guide the approaching caravan to the fortress, Dhorati would have called for him. He may not have liked the soldier’s heightened interest in protecting him, but there was no denying the man’s ability to calm him. As it was, he probably have to travel down to the medicine rooms, an area of the fortress he’d spent far too much time in, and ask one of the apprentice healers to give him something to sooth his fraying nerves. The fact that Lord Yuvan didn’t see fit to leave any of the master healers behind added greatly to that fraying.

The path Dhorati took led him past the two guard standing outside the prison.

He paused, recalling his earlier conversation with the celled pisacha. His exit had been fueled by anger and the knowledge that, at one time in his life, he would have believed what the demon said. Now he could see the lie for what it was; a way to ensnare too trusting humans. He was tempted to leave the creature in its cell as it was: without food or water. Let it suffer. But to punish the demon out of anger, an anger not even truly aimed at it, would make him no better than the monster that had held him captive.  

Dhorati approached the guards.

They bowed slightly. He return the gesture.

“Insure the demon is fed and watered tonight.” He instructed. “We do not want it expiring before Lord Yuvan returns to deal with it.” 

“Yes Vitaraka Dhorati.”

The need to prove humanity's superiority over that of demons fulfilled, Dhorati departed. He really was in great need of a sedative before he had to deal with the caravan’s arrival.  


	2. Interim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gili, this is all for you. You are the reason I'm trying to still write this.
> 
> Sanskrit words:  
> Adhissa = Lord or master over (Yuvan is the adhissa of everyone in Agni)  
> Indrajaala = Magic or sorcery   
> Kunthaabhurun = Neck ornament   
> Netr = Male leader (Yuvan is a netr)  
> Netri = Female leader (Firestar is a Netri)  
> Pisacha = Malevolent or devilish being or demon  
> Vitaraka = Steward (Yuvan made Dhorati the vitaraka of Agni)  
> Ziksu(s) = Servant(s) (Everyone working in Agni are ziksus to Yuvan)

The caravan of traders lingered within the walls of Agni for three whole days. And for three whole days, Dhorati found himself plagued with incessant questions about the nature of Lord Yuvan’s departure into the outerlands and when the great adhissa planned to return. The more the wayfarers asked, the more Dhorati suspected them of some ill intent. Thus, it was with great relief, when, on the morning of the fourth day, he saw the travelers off and locked the gate.

The sun, in all its glory, now danced along the western horizon, casting long shadows over the arid landscape. Dhorati found himself perched again on the northern wall, feet dangling over the edge, gloved hands idly tapping the amulet hanging over his chest. To the vitaraka’s right, Ashvath chiseled away at a block of sandstone, letting the dust disappear on the wind.

“I am glad they’re gone.” Dhorati muttered, ever present frown deepening behind the fabric covering his face.

The dark-skinned guard nodded, attention seeming to stay on his work. “I could tell. Nandish’s curiosity about the imprisoned demon was especially unsettling.”

Nandish, one of the younger traders, spent hours chatting with the men guarding the door to the prison. His attempts at slipping through the door and gaining a better view of the pisacha didn’t abated until Dhorati allowed the outsider to follow a servant in when the creature received food.

The fortress’s steward grunted noncommittally. The only problem he found with Nandish’s behavior was the lack of caution he showed around the caged pisacha. It wasn’t even something Dhorati could fully find fault in, his own demon-fear-levels were far too low for most of his life. Speaking of pisacha . . .

Dhorati stood, leather covered toes pressing into the hunned stones of the battlement. “It is time to insure the beast was fed.” He announced, striding off with Ashvath trailing a few paces behind, stilling working away at his hunk of stone.

The guards nodded respectfully to the pair when they arrived outside the prison. The two lightly armed ziksus quickly unbolted the heavy door and opened the passageway. Dhorati’s nodded to the guards as the doors closed behind him and Ashvath.

Inferno looked up from scratching designs into the floor, serpent eyes fixing on Dhorati’s covered face. “And here I’d consigned myself to a lonely evening.” The pisacha joked, scaled face splitting with a tooth filled grin. “Saved from the drudgery.” He rose, stepping within only a few inches of the bars.

Now, standing mere feet away, Dhorati saw the poor state of the demon’s burnished scales. “You look ill.” He grumbled, despising speaking to the pisacha but unwilling to leave it in a suffering state. Demons treated captives like that.

Shrugging, the reptilian being scratched a stout claw down his forearm. Scale fragments fell to the floor. “I’m accustomed to more sunlight.” The cell had a small window, barred of course, but it let dim light in for only a few hours a day.

Ashvath moved closer to Dhorati, the younger man’s shoulders hunched in a pensive way. “I’ve heard,” the dark-skinned ziksu stared at the pisacha, “There are demons which thrive only in harsh environments. Fire demons may need vast amounts of heat and light from the sun.”

“Is that true?” Dhorati’s voice remained distant as he questioned the demon.

Inferno huffed, snapping his jaw a few times before answering. “Yes.”

“Interesting.” The word was flat. Dhorati turned away, striding toward the door. When his companion did not follow, the vitaraka paused. “Ashvath,” he murmured. “I wish to speak with you in my room.” With that, the steward of Agni left, pisacha and ziksu watching.

The ziksu stood silently for a while, looking at the disheveled demon. Before uniting himself with the lord of Agni, Ashvath never expected to see a pisacha, or any demon, suffering from environmental deprivation. Shaking his head, the man turned away, following Dhorati.  

The pisacha sat quietly until Ashvath almost reached the door.

“I can smell it on him.”

Ashvath froze, hand inches from pushing open the door. Slowly, he turned back to face Inferno.

“Even with all the salves and powders he uses and the stinking concoction he drinks, I can smell the flesh, the blood. Indrajaala injuries can’t be covered up by such feeble attempts at healing, just as they can’t be cured.” The scaled demon leaned closer to the bars. “While I may not know what happened to him, though I can guess, I can assure you, human, that the use of such powerful indrajaala, especially on a creature incapable of defending himself, is inexcusable among my kind.”

Ashvath looked away. “I know.” He whispered and left, walking quickly toward Dhorati’s quarters. Once he arrived at the door, Ashvath knocked twice before entering.  

As usual, darkness filled the room, interrupted only by a sliver of light slipping through the shutters and the candles burning on the small table in the middle of the floor. The light revealed swirling rings of steam wafting up from the various pots and bowls on the table, their heavy builds sullen and dull. The dark and vapors combined to create a stuffy, cramped environment, and Ashvath wondered how Dhorati could bare living here.

“Ashvath.” The ziksu looked to where the fortress’s vitaraka sat perched on his bed.

“Yes Dhor?”

“You’ve always appeared to have more knowledge of pisachas and indrajaala than most.” The steward sat with his back to the door, slowly unwinding the bandaged he’d warn since getting up that morning.

“I admit I’ve studied the intricate world of demons and magic, though such times are long in my youth.” It was best for servants to avoid claims of familiarity with the mystic powers.

   “You’re going to make sure it doesn’t die.”

Ashvath opened and closed his mouth several times, unsure how to respond. “As you command, it shall be done.” A safely neutral response, no worry of causing Dhorati to fear his underlings cared too much for the life of a demon. A demon that would surely be dispatched once Lord Yuvan returned from his mission.

 

 

 

The desert planes of Tyaga saw little activity during the burning summer days; with temperatures almost high enough to boil water even fire demons preferred to avoid the sun’s midday strength. Not so at night. And tonight, the desert sands found themselves the host of an angry pisacha clade.

Firestar looked to the night sky, serpent eye’s shinning, burnished scales reflecting little of the moon’s light, her gaze fixed on the spot where the fortress of Agni blotted out the constellations. The clade’s netri hissed, fangs baring as she signaled her caranayodhin to halt. She’s only seen Agni a few times and never once let the clade near, even now with only her fighters and knowing the fortress’s netr Yuvan, Firestar still felt savizagka rise within her. Fear: never a welcomed sensation. But with one of their number in danger and an inferior foe (if the words of Nandish the merchant could be trusted) she could take the risk of engaging the humans.

“Chromia” Firestar called for her trusted councilor. She had only seconds to wait before the silvery female reach her.

“Yes.” She hissed.

“We shall reach the humans’ nest well before sunrise. I want you to call upon the forces that be to hide our presence from the humans. We’ll wait for the sun to be in the west and strike from that direction. The sun will give us strength while tiring and blinding the humans.”

Chromia nodded, extending her claws to play with her kunthaabhurun. The neck ornament pulsed with power. “And how shall we strike?”

Firestar bared her teeth. “Subdue and with strain. Inferno will decide how we deal with them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't expect to see the fight scene 'cause I struggle writing them and this story is hard enough.
> 
> Comments and support (as well as occasional reminders) will really help with writing this.

**Author's Note:**

> Another Demon!AU. 
> 
> Red Alert is Dhorati. Inferno is, well, Inferno. And Firestar is Firestar, dhu (All belong to hasbro) All other characters are of my creation.
> 
> Anyone want to hazard a guess at what is causing Dhorati's raised anxioty?
> 
> I will be continuing this at some point. If anyone has ideas for things that could happen, please let me know. 
> 
>  
> 
> Want to see more stories? Leave a comment!


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